What Bobbie brought home.
"Oh,lookup!Speaktome!ForMYsake,speak!"Thechildrensaidthewordsoverandoveragaintotheunconscioushoundinaredjersey,whosatwithclosedeyesandpalefaceagainstthesideofthetunnel.
"Wethisearswithmilk,"saidBobbie."Iknowtheydoittopeoplethatfaint—witheau-de-Cologne.ButIexpectmilk’sjustasgood."
Sotheywettedhisears,andsomeofthemilkrandownhisneckundertheredjersey.Itwasverydarkinthetunnel.ThecandleendPeterhadcarried,andwhichnowburnedonaflatstone,gavehardlyanylightatall.
"Oh,DOlookup,"saidPhyllis."ForMYsake!Ibelievehe’sdead."
"ForMYsake,"repeatedBobbie."No,heisn’t."
"ForANYsake,"saidPeter;"comeoutofit."Andheshookthesuffererbythearm.
Andthentheboyintheredjerseysighed,andopenedhiseyes,andshutthemagainandsaidinaverysmallvoice,"Chuckit."
"Oh,he’sNOTdead,"saidPhyllis."IKNEWhewasn’t,"andshebegantocry.
"What’sup?I’mallright,"saidtheboy.
"Drinkthis,"saidPeter,firmly,thrustingthenoseofthemilkbottleintotheboy’smouth.Theboystruggled,andsomeofthemilkwasupsetbeforehecouldgethismouthfreetosay:—
"Whatisit?"
"It’smilk,"saidPeter."Fearnot,youareinthehandsoffriends.Phil,youstopbleatingthisminute.